Blue Eyes
by Penrose Quinn
Summary: Her blue eyes were beautiful. They were like his two windows presenting the cerulean sky beneath a curtain of lashes. It was sad, though. She could never see the sky that she cherished as much as he wanted to resist the sight of it once again. A drabble series of nonlinear events.
1. want

**A/N:** Another one! I know. Apparently (obviously), I am absolutely fond of the four dragons, no? Haha. Thank you, reader, for actually clicking your mouse because you're curious of reading this...well, another story of mine. Shin-Ah was a tricky one, considering how silent and preserved his character is, but fortunately the OC I paired for him might just fix that gap. There was also the fact that I had to make his POV somewhat monotone (I hope I got that right). Lastly, what this beautiful dragon here needed was a friend. Jeez, it's saddening to know he did not even have one in his entire childhood. I hope you enjoyed it!

The only warning I could grant all of you is that this will be somewhat confusing. She won't call him Shin-Ah since this will be set before he even met Yona so I would only call him Seiryuu.

I hope I did justice to Shin-Ah's character!

 **A/N 2:** Hello! So before anything, I'm so sorry for completely rewriting this! I didn't like how I wrote this in the supposed three-shot before but, hey, at least I'm updating here again! For now, I decided that this fic here will just be a series of random drabbles with an equally random timeline (by that, I mean I could be writing about what happened before, what is happening now, and what will happen between these two). Updates will remain sporadic. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it in spite of its shortness!

* * *

 **1\. want**

Whenever she left him to return back to the village folk, Ha-Neul always faded like vapor, a steam of pure white wafting behind her leaving her sweet essence for him to want and reject. He felt shame destroy him, this pining for another beside him sharing his joys and pains, his breaths and words— and just the mere thought he felt something, something so real and _alive_ and not just another shadow of his imagination. The caverns had always felt so immense and cold, with labyrinths that can make one go mad with despair; a bleak contrast of the world behind these walls of stone and granite.

This time she stayed for a night, tucking her knees to her chest, searching for him still. She was in a cramped place, a little too spacious for a small body, a little too broken for a fragile girl. However, she melded in with scuffled feet and ruined robes, as if such thing never fazed her ever since.

Vigilant, Seiryuu was facing her, just a few meters apart, a limb away to pull her back from the shadows that dared snare her into its grasp. He needed to watch her, to peruse her being—still so pale and delicate—in fear of losing her at this moment, like a dragon guarding its lily. Though he didn't want to get too close, he didn't wish for her touch or any sort of gesture from her. Ao suited the role best and he was no creature of sociability and pleasantries.

Her blue eyes stared at him, bright even in the dark. "You won't stray too far, will you?"

He held a breath. Just a moment.

 _No._

He shook his head, as if she did see him. It felt like she always did. His bells jingled along with his movement.

Ha-Neul smiled faintly, aware of his answer. She tilted her head to lean on her knee, her locks sticking on her forehead, just barely obscuring her eyes in a blur of starlight hair. Her eyes shone like a beacon. Even without the torchlight, it illuminated on its own. Pierced through him. Her hand reached out.

"You're here," she muttered in a feather-soft voice. "You're close."

Her face was unruffled despite of its wanning vitality. She was looking at him, through the mask, through his dragon eyes, with blind eyes that can see the naked world. He shifted just a little, scraping the ground with his boots. His heart was on his throat. Something heavy and hot dropped at the pit of his stomach. He was stuck, petrified. That small hand that reached for impossible things. He wondered how far it could reach. If it could find him. If he should return it back.

She pouted, her lip jutting out. Her arm looped around her knees, bringing it close. "The silent treatment, hm?"

Seiryuu couldn't respond back. He didn't know what to utter or what he should say. It was complex on its own as he tried to grasp the situation. He didn't want to speak. He didn't want her to know he was near her, preferring she kept her distance and he just silently watched over her from afar. But she knew anyway. And he could only feel himself tremble if she did try to look for him, seeking for a beast that can make all that sweetness and frailty vanish with one glare.

She sighed under her breath and she let her eyes close, long lashes dusting her pallid cheeks. But her hand was suspended, still reaching, waiting for something to hold it back.

Her eyes were still shut. She smiled and everything in this void of shadows and nightmares lit up with brilliance.

Ha-Neul whispered for his ears alone, "As long you're here."

When she uttered those words, she destroyed him again.

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Akatsuki no Yona.


	2. fear

**2\. fear**

"I wanted to meet you."

Seiryuu couldn't grasp her words— no, he _couldn_ _'_ _t_ accept the words he yearned to hear for all those years of being rejected and scorned. Those softly spoken words said so dearly felt like sharp spades jabbing his head instead of the warm sensation of happiness and cordiality touching his too battered heart. He was confused. He didn't understand. This disclosure spun another web of questions, along with the one query that surmounted the rest— _Why now after all this time?_

Whilst the wild surge of confusion and frustration prickling his mind, his sealed lips refused to open. To utter a sound. To say a word.

Like a shying animal, he averted his masked face away from her, released his grasp on her, and hastily began to scurry away while his bells shakily chinked against each other. Much to his dismay and surprise, her small hands reached for his wrist and held it firmly within her pale fingers, ceasing his actions of escape. His gaze landed upon her blue eyes once again. Those beautiful eyes beckoning him, mesmerizing him.

He gave his head a light shake, denying the almost addicting sight of her twin pools of blue, and tried to writhe his hand from her grip, forceful but gentle enough to not hurt her in the process.

"Don't leave," she pleaded, her hands clasping his wrist securely. "I meant what I said."

Ha-Neul smiled albeit her features seemed to wan from her vitality. The rise and fall of her chest was slowing down as if dragging air through her nostrils was an exhausting feat. She looked so fragile akin to a shriveling water lily. For a moment, he was unnerved at the thought that he might hurt her if he shoved her away with all his might. More so, if she caught a glimpse of his eyes.

Although he could simply leave her alone and calm his restless mind in the depths of his solitude and silence, he couldn't help but stay. She pleaded once again. He wished she didn't plead. He wished she never said such words.

Because fear riddled in his heart.


	3. mask

**3\. mask**

Ha-Neul never showed her face to anyone.

Just rightfully so, for a good daughter followed an age-old tradition and a good daughter meant the promise of a blessed family and a good wife. She was endowed with a life swathed with silk fineries and honeyed words, in a room crammed with all its sickening decadence and handmaids, closed shut with satin draperies and bouldered walls that obstruct her from the unknown world beyond.

She reveled in the splendor of these things, even in the blindness of her sight. Not once did she gripe or fuss, as a docile chit should. She behaved in a manner full of grace and charm, dolled up with dresses that flowed like water, with a mask concealing her true face from cooing mothers and pitying sycophants. The granddaughter of one the Elders is a blind little girl, so vulnerable to a world full of madmen and wrathful gods and vicious dragons, so delicate for treacherous beasts and resilient suitors. Please her, fondle her, lie to her with kindness. Hypocrites.

All those dreams of innocence and happiness wrapped in a silken shroud of luxury crumbled long ago, festering in a cesspit of its rot in a space in her mind. It began with darkness and it ended with darkness. It didn't matter. Being a prepped-up doll didn't concern her if she lived in comfort and so was not having a conscience when she perpetually put her handmaidens in a stir or when she manipulated her _playthings_ for the sake of relieving a tedium. She hated them, she knew.

They only saw her mask—that macabre mask of ivory and painted horns—and didn't care to look close enough to see the sneering face beneath.

Something did bother her and it was insufferable than her bouts of seizures or boredom. She was lacking— hollow and cold inside like an empty shell, waiting for the right moment to regress into nothingness. Dead, that was it. She felt dead inside.

Somehow, not being the good daughter ignited some small flame of life within her. Age-old traditions be damned, nothing felt more invigorating than committing taboo. When she fled away from that perfumed room of silks, when she ripped the accursed mask off her face— Seiryuu was the only who saw the hidden face beneath. Death didn't smite her down like how she expected, but something else, something far more interesting and compelling all the same: curiosity.

Silence and the tinkle of bells. It felt inviting. Refreshing.

As Ha-Neul laid on the coarse ground, dearth of any plush cushions and fur-trimmed carpets, she listened in the stillness. Anticipated for his movements. She could only smile when she felt him near with the same intrigue in his eyes—wherever they may be, coiling around her hull in an otherworldly and powerful pull. _Don't hide from me._

"You're not afraid?"

Seiryuu would always ask the same question with a tone both grave and diffident, unfazed and hesitant. Just before he stops for an intake of air. This wasn't the voice of an ancient dragon. This was the voice of a boy hiding in depths no one can fathom.

She cranes her neck to the side, listening in her silent contemplation. "Should I?"

It took a moment, lapses upon lapses of his silence. His breathing grew shallower and the sweet sound of his bells was fainter.

He said in a low, reluctant voice, "I can hurt you."

A small smile touched her face. It was surprisingly genuine than the countless polite simpers she'd used before.

"Then hurt me, make me bleed if you will," she stated, undeterred and unbent. "But let me stay with you,"

The last statement was offhanded and unreserved. Her insides burned, as if nothing could douse it.

"We both live in the dark, anyway."

In here, in this place so unfamiliar and harsh, she felt one with herself.


	4. lost

**4\. lost**

The sound of feet scuffing the jagged, rocky ground nicked the silence.

Someone was crossing over his territory.

His fingers lightly brushed the hilt of his blade out of instinct. Alarm rushed in his veins in a split second. No one went down that path. No one would dare. If there were intruders from the outside world, it was his mission to cut them down. Eliminate them.

Ao leaned on his chin, a comforting gesture to mollify his qualm. With a pet, he then gently hauled his furry little friend and placed her on the floor, which made her tilt her head. With the bells jangling with him, he rose from his crouching position and began to pad away from the comfort of his solitude. Steady and silent, he scoured as the cursed eyes of the blue dragon sharpened in the darkness.

There.

A figure.

A petite figure.

His hand reached for his blade, fingers curling on the hilt.

His bells tinkled.

"Who's there?"

Seiryuu halted at that moment. From his macabre mask, his eyes caught the sight of a girl. His hand left the hilt of his blade for he noticed that she wore the same grim masks like the other villagers. She was a villager yet was she not afraid of entering this path? Was she not afraid of the damned eyes of the blue dragon? Was she not afraid of _him_? So many questions to ask yet his tongue was quelled from the curiosity that wished to spill from his mouth.

He shook his head from his reverie, making his bells jingle once again.

"I can hear you."

He remained to act silent. Though the shadows plunged them in a world of blindness and she could not probably see him from the lack of sunshine or torchlight, this was no hindrance from his own eyes— an advantage and a reminder of the might and terror of its power. He saw the village girl cling onto the walls, her palms firmly pressed at the bulges of rock. He wondered if she was lost. Strangely, she was not quivering in fear. She was just still, grappling on the edges in anticipation.

"Are you Seiryuu?"

He jolted in surprise, bells chinking against each other. He took a step back. The tone of her voice was strange. Very alien to him. It was as if he felt a smile behind the unappealing mask she wore. Lightly shaking his head, he disregarded the thought. No villager ever greeted or spoke to him with kindness and acceptance. It must be a figment of his imagination born from his starving desire for company.

"Are you?"

He felt her shift, foot scraping heavily against the ground. Her head was lolling which further befuddled him. Much to his flabbergast, she lost her balance from taking another step, causing her to fall to her knees. Her hand tightly clenched her chest. His ears perked from the sound of shallow breaths. She was _wheezing_. She was clearly suffering from a decrepit condition.

He can't just leave a frail girl like that.

He had to do something.

Hunched and becalm to not scare her from his presence, Seiryuu neared her and reluctantly held her hand. Odd. Her hand was small and delicate, almost easy to break and can snap any moment if he was not careful. It was waxy pale and clammy, but it was not caused by fright. It looked sickly. Her bony fingers squeezed his, which surprised him once again. He did not understand what it meant. He did not know how to respond. All he knew was that he had to return her back to the villagers.

He simply aided her in standing up from her two feet, making sure her hand or her support was still secure on his. The moment he guided her from the opposite direction she faced, she froze and unsteadily dropped to the floor again. Her grasp on him grew tauter. Her breathing was deeper and shallower. Her sallow condition somewhat managed to draw his concern, a spate of panic surging in his chest.

She was ill.

She needed help immediately.

She wasn't supposed to be here.

Not supposed to be with him.

He persistently held her up, but she was too stubborn to rise.

Her head shook, every movement slackening from her feeble stamina and weariness.

"No, don't make me go back," she croaked in between her gasps for air. "I don't want to go back there . . . "

Releasing a sigh, the village girl went limp and fainted from her sudden outburst. Fortunately, he caught her small hull in a nick of time. He slightly shook her shoulder in high hopes that she would awaken, but alas he attained nothing more but her lolling head and the soft mumbling from her breath. Curious, he leaned to hear her murmuring.

" _._ _._ _._ d-don't . . . don't go . . . back _._ _._ _._ "

It was a desperate plead

A cry for help.

Why did she wish to strand herself here?

What made her want to distance herself from the villagers?

Much to his surprise, Ao scampered to his side and leaped to his shoulder with an appeasing gesture and a curious look on her wide eyes. She must have hounded for him again once he left earlier. He looked at her then darted his gaze to the person before him. He felt conflicted. She would be safe with the villagers. She would be taken care of properly with them. She would be nowhere near him.

Yet she didn't wish to go back.

She even begged.

What should he do?

With a long pause, he finally sighed in resignation.

Seiryuu held her closer to him and carried her with unmistakable gentleness. He took a step forward, but paused at the pleas escaping from her lips. His broad shoulders slightly sagged. Turning a heel, he granted her request and traipsed towards his quarters instead. On the other hand, his small companion skittered to the mysterious girl and perched onto her shoulder while nuzzling her head at her mask— supposedly, her cheek.

He mused to himself if she would regret that decision of hers.

But actually, he was the one afraid in complying to her poor choice.


	5. envy

**5\. envy**

The villagers called Seiryuu a monster.

Ha-Neul called him a free man.

Sometimes, she thought in disregard if she swapped places with the great and terrible Seiryuu. Sometimes, she wondered if she should have just taken the dragon power from him, not knowing how or if there truly is a possibility. She fantasized these things, selfish and indifferent as it was, and the consequence always followed with a rotten being manifesting in her mind: envy.

She was an envious creature, like countless others who took and took to feel better yet, somehow, nothing sated them with satisfaction or release. Indeed, she was, but she coveted like no other when her wish was beyond her reach. When she heard the other village girls gabble of colors and beauty and vanity, something pricked within her bosom. An appalling sensation, full of unadulterated yearning and contempt. She had to silence those girls and she had to be cooed just to let it go, like a sniveling brat.

She had everything, spoiled with mountains of affections any girl could desire. They would give her gifts, enthusing each object from its varying colors to its designs, all in meticulous detail. They would sometimes comment on how the blue hues of her new robes fitted her eyes, as they were the same shade of the sky. Another time, the golden trinkets on her wrists and neck, all glittering in beaten gold, complimented her blond hair. They would encourage these things without thinking, with pity that brimmed to the fullest. But what was color to the blind? What was blue and gold to gloaming black? It meant nothing, these useless things.

Still nothing compared to the longing of sight.

Ha-Neul would trade it, _all of it_ , only to have seeing eyes and a stronger body.

Though, sometimes— _a lot of times_ , she didn't understand Seiryuu with all his compassion and dedication to these ungrateful fools whom have treated him like a monster all of his life. Devotion tethered him in this hostile place, letting those swines take advantage of his protection. What was it? What was there to risk in this cruel village with its cruel elders and cruel children? To her, they don't deserve him, not even a smidgen.

"They _hate_ you," she said, her voice raw with emotion and anger. "You know it too!"

Her nails dug deep on her palms, drawing blood. As she stood out under the rain, she was trembling, not in fear, but of indignation and confusion and something far disgusting than all of those. She couldn't tell what happened before or how she even began to lose her temper, but her emotions rose like bile on her throat and left her lips in all its foulness. The pitter-pattering only grew in volume; maybe, she was outside or she was placed in a hole-roofed cave because the storm spewed all its icy, sopping justice upon her. Her feet were getting cold and numb as a puddle formed beneath her. Her clothes clung to her like a layer of ice.

She was rooted on her ground, withstanding the downpour. She just couldn't stop spouting vitriol, she couldn't stop being so furious . . . she couldn't remove that appalling feeling in her chest, railing and fuming barbs at him like stones that village children would throw at him, each jab harsher than the last. Not even regarding his feelings— did she even know him that well? She didn't even have the right to hurt him, to judge him, and yet she continued on with words like acid retching from her lips. He might not even forgive her, and maybe, it was better that way.

She was a vicious person, so full of despite and envy, she knew. He should too.

 _Don't listen to me. Don't listen to me._

Her voice broke out, annoyed and frustrated and depressed. "Why don't you just leave?"

Tears streamed from her eyes, rolling down like droplets of rainwater. Her hand rubbed them harshly and she had to repress the urge to hiccup however it was unbearable and her throat already began to hurt and strain from her choked sobs. _You're free but you remain here as a trapped beast._

She couldn't hear his footsteps from the rain but she felt something furry and warm atop her head, shielding her from the cold rainwater. Only then when she felt his breaths mist on her face that she knew he stood before her, with this reckless girl, under the rain. His bells swung from the wind, tinkling her ears. She refused to be seen by him as she kept her head low, hidden beneath her curtain of hair. She looked vulnerable and it upset her so much if he caught sight of it.

"You deserve living in a better place," she went on. "Not here, you're better than that . . . "

There was no solace here, in the unforgiving darkness and the caverns. For him and her, who both had nothing to return to.

"Home," he whispered in a solid voice. "This is . . . my home,"

Seiryuu took another step. She can almost feel his warmth radiate on her as he did so.

"I will protect it, no matter what."

She let out a shuddering breath as she leaned forward, her forehead touching his chest, her shoulders dropping in defeat.

 _If only._

She was really pathetic.

" . . . you're too kind."


	6. soft

**6\. soft**

"Please," Ha-Neul pleaded. "Just this once,"

Her hand on his wrist remained firm as he attempted to scurry away from her.

"Let me see you,"

The plead in her whisper smote him in ways no one could do.

"Let me see you, please," she said. "I want to see you."

 _Believe me_ , the unspoken words echoed. They must have reached him too. _Don't go away._

Seiryuu must have thought of her foolish, must have doubted her. She can't see him like others would but this was the closest thing in achieving it. To see him. To feel him, as sight could with hands. She wanted to do it; that was it. Days— months, maybe, have come to pass and it was rather far-fetched of him to not trust her at this point. He was hesitant though his silence was forgiving. It took awhile but his actions slightly slackened and he reluctantly stepped forward, leaning an inch closer.

As her hand crawled up, she felt him flinch and she had to grant him a small moment of reconsideration. With a breath, she gradually let her hand creep up to his cheek, earning her another shift and a twitch, and another hand followed, pressing the other side of his face. Her fingers touched something smooth and hard like that of bone, tracing the cracks from age. They lingered on them, each one bearing a scar and a secret, and glided to the sides of his mask, greeting her fingers with soft, wild fur, curling and tangling.

Her hands glided down, faintly, gingerly touching the soft skin of his cheeks under the mask. She felt his jaws taut in an instant, solicitous from the act, thus made her caresses lighter and gentler. Her thumbs slid down beneath his chin on each side, trailing on his defined jaw. A strong, virile jaw, she thought. Her palms softy pressed his cheeks, slightly gaunt, as the tips of her fingers scraped his cheekbones, high and shapely. He breathed in deep. Then out. In, out, and again. She knew he did. She _felt_ it.

Growing a little bolder, her hands slid under the mask, tugging it off. He hesitated with a rasped inhale, reacting with a hand on her right wrist. Ha-Neul blinked at the action and her eyes went still, looking at nothing, and then softened after. The quiver in that gentle hand, the fear in his grasp, she wanted to make it stop, wanted to put it to an end. To her surprise, his calloused fingers reached up upon hers, carefully wrapping on them in assurance. The warmth was undeniable. She moved her hands up, and he, still reluctant, aided in the act of removing his mask.

His skin was smooth, warmed by her curious touch, and melded by her hands. It was like molding, tracing each contour, feeling the flesh and bone within. Human, so human. Her fingers motioned just near his eyes and had taken note that he kept them shut. Her head tilted, slightly taken back. She remained to touch him anyway, letting her fingers feel the soft lines under them, brushing past the thin set of his lashes. She felt some traces of his perspiration from his forehead, the roots of his hair a tad slick. Her pointer finger pressed the spot between his brows, which was creased, and dipped down to his pointed nose. A bit lower, she felt a sweet curve, warm and soft.

Lips. Soft lips. Strained in a thin line. All sense of coyness was discarded away upon having trace them, memorizing its softness upon her fingers, and she had to repress the urge of touching her own with profound curiosity and wonder.

He was no longer a boy. He was a man and she touched him relentlessly, capriciously. Was this like touching a man? To feel him? Admittedly, it was a very pleasant experience.

Seiryuu is a beautiful man, she believed.

Innocently, she wanted more. The feel of him under her touch. She breathes in, taking in the cold air and the strong scent of rain and musk. Captivated, she drew closer without a second thought, curiosity spurring her to take a confident front. Her hands cupped his face fondly. All at once, she clumsily pressed her lips to his bottom lip, missing the fullness of his mouth. He responded to the kiss with an affronted flinch and she another try, another tender press.

With a silent gasp, he went rigid and motionless, likely not anticipating her impulsive actions. This gave her leverage, adjusting herself as she leaned closer to him, parting her mouth. His hand found her cheek, as if to pull her away from him, but he did not do such thing as he held her, wavering, submitting. And she drew in to him, as if it was natural, and savored the whim of the moment.

His breaths were hers to breathe and his touch were hers to feel. He still lingered in her mouth, stalled, tasted. He might have not wanted this or perhaps he did. It no longer mattered. He did not stop her nor did she stop him.

The softness of it all was simply tantalizing.


	7. meadow field

**7\. meadow field**

In the meadow field, Seiryuu had known freedom for the first time.

He would feel the warmth of the sun caress his skin, the winds dance around him in brisk twirls, and the graze of the tall grass, thousands of blades stretching on and on towards the horizon; the towering trees and the wild flowers and the wildlife, all alive. A slow roll of plains reaching far to the distance and then a sharp rise of snow-capped peaks would jut up from the northern mists, a crystallized shimmer of ice glinting, twinkling like stars against the light. There were clear mountain springs, the lakes and rivers, pure and serene, reflecting the tranquility of the landscape. It was a myriad of color, so rich and vibrant that the very imagery felt too surreal for his eyes. It was a sensation, a feast for his sight.

He could see anything and everything; no longer was it a desolate void within the caverns, not the moss-ridden, rock slabs of a wretched labyrinth— this was the _world_ , a world he thought he could never see before he'd die, and it was beautiful.

It was freedom. Happiness.

But.

In the meadow field, Ha-Neul had been freed for the last time.

Bathed under the sunlight beneath a bed of wild flowers, she lay there. She smiled for a time, what a beautiful smile it was. With just a breath, she had gone with the wind.

Seiryuu, who had been freed, felt shackled by the ghost in his heart.

And somehow, all the colorful imagery he'd seen paled in comparison from the sight of blond hair and blue eyes and a smile.

Had he the power to restore her weak constitutions, he would do so. To just make her breathe again, and smile and laugh like those bright, warm days. He'd sacrifice anything, even his life for her own. But no, fate had been cruel, as he was only gifted with the power of death.

Sometimes, he could still hear her voice, the words that she'd utter in gentle placidity. _I wish I could have lived a little longer. Maybe, it would have eased some of my regrets,_ she smiled faintly, her blond head perched on the wild grass. _Even so, it might be a bit selfish of me but if you could only continue that dream . . ._ our _dream . . ._

Her absence in the world was no different from his sword running through his heart. And he would do it, without a doubt. He would follow her to the grave, meet her in the realm of sweet finality and reprieve.

But she never asked for him to die with her.

 _Will you live for me?_

And he did live for her. For a time, he learned how to hunt, to sow seeds in fertile soil for grains fit for a meal, to speak and write and so many things— learned things he'd wanted her to acknowledge and admire. Leaving behind his macabre mask and sword, the fears and pains etched upon its surface, within a crate of his possession; a living relic of the past Seiryuu, of what remains of him. He _lived_. Like a person, a peaceful man for once. That was it. He was just a man now with scars and calloused hands and bound eyes.

Seiryuu would visit her makeshift grave and only then he'd remove the strip of cloth covering his eyes, pulling his lips into the smile she had always tugged up in the past. He would always bring Ao because he knew she'd appreciate her presence and Ao would want it as well. He would tell her stories of different variety as if she was listening, either below the earth or high, high above the sky. A little while after, he would shed tears because, _because_. . .

"I would have wanted you to live with me."

The nightmares did not bother him anymore. It was the dreams; dreams of her alive and breathing next to him in the meadow field that kept him hoping it could be real. That it _could_ have happened.

He'd count the days and nights, the stars in the sky and the trees within the forest, and pine and pine and _pine_ for her voice to reach him again.

And then a miracle had happened.

"You are Seiryuu."

In the meadow field, he had met the master of his destiny whose hair is as crimson as dawn with warm and strong eyes.

The curiosity and certainty in her voice was familiar and nostalgic. It hurt to hear it, how alike it sounded. But her hair had not been like that of wheat and her eyes had no coloring of the sky. This was a different person, a different girl— a stranger, still.

The dragon blood may have pulsed and the ancient voices of his name may have cried but his ears hear only the whisper of the wind, the voice of another whom he'd devote himself to, forever.

 _You're free to decide your own fate._


	8. daydream

**8\. daydream**

Her voice echoed gently in the vastness in a tune of what he could make out of as a lullaby.

It was a little off at beat, somewhat faint in pitch, however he loved the tinkling lilt of her voice, even if she was far too nonchalant to acknowledge it.

It wasn't just the occasional humming though it was also the curve of her mouth, shaped in soft edges that struggled between a smile and a frown, and the way her silvery lashes would flutter above her blue eyes brimming with sentiment and wishful thinking— didn't she always look like this? Like she was living high above in daydreams.

 _Captivating_ , he thought of her, and he wouldn't have her any other way.

Her finger would coil around a stray lock of her hair, twining it around like a tendril, and then would release, and afterwards begin to twist another on whim. Ha-Neul was a fickle creature, tedious in the wake of things. And these little acts, these small things, he couldn't help but feel a profound sense of familiarity in the manner of what made her so _her_ — the way she softly crooned and the tapping of her shoeless toes peeping beneath her skirt, when she twirled her hair in idle, when she has a habit of chewing her lower lip whenever she was lost in thought.

When she looked at him and he thought she knew— _she knew_ —that he wasn't what he thought he was.

Under the blond-white fringes, beneath the stars in her eyes— _there_ , just there. It felt a bit frightening, a bit nostalgic, a bit like home.

Sometimes, he couldn't help but search for it too.

Her mouth perked up ever so slightly, full of laughter and flippancy. It was beautiful, Ha-Neul's smile.

 _Always, always._

Seiryuu could excuse that it had been his inner fraternal instinct that wanted to protect that smile however it wasn't just that, maybe never that. It couldn't be when it caught the breath from his throat in quiet awe and fascination—desiring to memorize it, fearing it'll disappear in an interval—when he would long for it till it haunted him in his dreams. How she never knew the things she made him feel with that smile, how she made him weak. Made him so human.

"Seiryuu," she whispered, almost testing the name on her mouth. "Seiryuu."

Her tone was curious as the syllables wrapped around her tongue.

" _Seiryuu,_ " she called again; another utter of his name in that deep ringing tone might as well make him collapse from his feet.

He looked at her unblinkingly, and before he could ever react, he felt her fingers brush gently on his jaw, her touch just as tingling as butterfly kisses.

Ha-Neul grinned triumphantly. "Ha! Caught you," she said, her face inches near his. She smelt of lavender. "You're very slack today,"

He visibly flinched, the heel of his boot took a midstep backwards.

"Stay," she caught him before he could slink back into the darkness. However the attention she was pouring over him awoke something in him that shouldn't have been there, made his will bend and stop for hers; so he did, paralyzed on his spot like stone. "There."

The caress of her hand was undeniably irresistible. He would have grasped her wrist, removed it as if to spare it from touching something foul, but he feared holding it too, feeling it snap a bone, feeling it quiver. He grew frightened relishing that warmth, basking before the clever young girl that had been so intimately close to him that there foreheads were pressing against each other.

Lavender overwhelmed his senses, the most pleasant intoxication; this meant surrender, this meant weakness.

Her starlight hair tumbled to his strong trembling shoulders, and his fingers absentmindedly whisked a few strands from her eyes, twinkling as he did so. "Are you daydreaming?" she smiled, kissing the top of his nose.

His face gradually warmed, unsure how to respond. Sensing his reaction—as she always did—she chuckled and clasped the hand that held her hair to her lips, pecking a chaste kiss to his knuckles. He felt weak around her. Shakily, lamely weak. In that bold endearing way, she added, "Surely, about me?"

His mouth opened. "If it's you . . ."

The words trailed off his lips like a mist, evaporating just at the satisfied sigh of his breath.

 _Perhaps, I'd rather not wake up._


	9. monster

**9\. monster**

Don't all stories have a heroine that save the monster from himself?

Ha-Neul had mused that line, which was nothing but an idealized fabrication for the starving minds of little girls; little girls loved to please after all and especially _be_ pleased. She was no exception to it.

There was an appeal to a monster that attracted something inside her, a sensational pull that drew and tugged and teased the very core of her, like the seductive whisperings of devils and nightingales in dusk. It was the danger and the thrill and every rhyme and rhythm that spelt _forbidden_ ; forbidden love, how exquisite, how spellbinding—the damsel that fell for a beast.

There was beauty in that monster—a fallen, sunken beauty that captivates in the dark chamber of his heart, where poison pulsed in his veins that you could taste it on the copper in his lips, like nightshades and salt. His breaths were frost and miasma and she could almost smell the evil in him from his emptiness. Emptiness in which she would love to fill and drown with her own saving devotion.

Countless of times she'd heard of such tales that numbered each twinkling star in the night, and each one spoken almost like guilty pleasure, masturbation in its finest literary form. Light of my life, fire in my loins—my love, my monster, I'm yours and you're mine.

Sometimes, she'd taught maybe there was something to save within the deepest darkest depths of that blue dragon; maybe he would sneer at her helpless being with jowls and claws or maybe he would keep her captive in his cave, poring over her like pale gold. Maybe a destiny twined with this dragon was something like the stories, forbidden in its delight, its dark promise.

But, really? What a farce.

Seiryuu was neither a monster nor was she a heroine.

Seiryuu was human with a heart that loved—oh how he _loved_ , how he bled for that love, how she loved that love that no could love. And that was saving him all along in his silent isolation, that selfless conviction he placed upon her.

That he was _saving_ her from herself.

Maybe she wanted to be saved after all, wanted to fall because she almost was just at the edge of her world, barely clinging onto the precipice because she was trying so hard to save her soul.

She couldn't save him; she could only make him fall along with her to oblivion.

She couldn't help but think if she was to fall now he'd jump for her from the cliffs where the waves lapped the rocks. He was beautiful in that way, so beautiful, so innocent and fragile—that if she was to lose him, it would be like robbing the air in her lungs, the moonlight in her nights.

She was decay and death and all things he wasn't, never would.

In this tale, she was the monster.


	10. you

**10\. you**

He was Shin-ah now.

Everyone called him so; his dragon brothers, his friends, and his master. His family. He cherished that name. There was a weight to it that tugged at his chest, that made him feel warm and full all over, like having a bite of a good meal for the first time. And along with it, it trilled in a tune that sung of a long-awaited promise, of protection and man of moonlight. He loved the sound of it too.

"Shin-ah," called over Ryokuryuu, an easy grin on his face and a saucer of rice wine on his hand. "You're a fine-looking young man. Any past lover you are willing to share?"

" _Jae-ha!_ " Hakuryuu berated to his side, beet red from head to toe from the alcohol.

They were huddled together in their camp, bickering over the fire. The swallows chirped, the mid-autumn breeze swept; it was a cool night.

It was one of those nights.

There was a sly smile on Ryokuryuu's lips, one that held the sharpness of a double-edged blade; a maturity and frivolousness of an adult and an elder brother. It must have cut through him then and there, from the dark pupil of his golden eye.

Shin-ah wasn't intoxicated yet like the others were. His mind could still make out the indications of what was occurring at present though his mind was away, far away, from a distant beautiful land—at the top of a white mountain, beneath the rush of a waterfall, in the silent meadow field.

He could still hear the whispers in the wind, softly, gently, croon in his ear, like an old song. _Seiryuu._

He was _Seiryuu_ in her lips. It wasn't the characters of _blue dragon_ that clung at the roof of her mouth, not the callings of _monster_ and _cursed eyes_ at the edge of her teeth, but in a syllable of something familiar, something intimate in the rhythm.

 _You_. Only you.

He could almost hear her tinkling voice. It resounded in the back of his head, almost like an echo in a deep narrow cave.

He could _hear_ her and he feared he'd forget what she sounded like.

 _Seiryuu_ that curled around her tongue, letter and tone, beat and sigh—it didn't matter how she did it; it spoke to him like a secret language only the both of them shared. It was a beckon, an endearment, and a welcome to him. It was everything and nothing and a something in between from palate to tap and out from the corner of her smile.

Seiryuu still hung onto sentiment. A soft-spoken sentiment he relished and wailed for time and time again, like finding precious stone and winding up losing it after a cut to the finger. He could never claim to love the name _Seiryuu_ though he would always love the bell-like voice that spoke of it.

He was Shin-ah now, but he would always be her Seiryuu.

That name, however, sounded more like _goodbye_ in the wind, in the meadow field beneath the sunlight.

He felt a large splinter wedge in his chest. Felt a little bit of himself bleed.

Was he gushing over? Was he crying? He couldn't tell now.

He was getting dizzy from the liquor, so was everyone.

Ryokuryuu sat next to him with a small, cognizant smile. He was always good at that, reading people's hearts.

"Do you miss her?"

Shin-ah was quiet, glazed over with a burst of emotion that betrayed his thoughtful, inhuman eyes. The man next to him nodded, as if he listened—and he must have for awhile.

"Always."


End file.
